


the captain has enough titles i can just borrow one for this fic

by Kirta



Category: The Traitor Son Cycle - Miles Cameron
Genre: Gen, Wing AU, it's some talking but mostly just some tired friends who really need a break, past sauce/bad tom/captain mentioned in a one off line, tbh it's barely even wing au either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 09:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirta/pseuds/Kirta
Summary: After the Battle of Gilson's Hole, Sauce and Bad Tom drag the Captain away from the army's camp for a few hours.





	the captain has enough titles i can just borrow one for this fic

**Author's Note:**

> first written for polyshipweek 2019 on tumblr. didn't really expect to be on ao3, let alone post something, but the past month has been full of surprises so what's one more? apparently the first from this fandom here, too. here goes?

Ser Alison sat on a hill under the stars and pretended she had no duties as an officer of the Company for one night. Tom sat beside her, and the Captain beside him, and for an hour they were silent. They wore no armour and bore only a few weapons at their sides- Alison’s new Morean blade, Tom’s heavy dragon-gifted longsword, the Captain’s fancy bladed spear. The aftermath of the Battle of Gilson’s Hole lay below them, barely visible under the stars and the new moon. It had been three days, and their allied forces were only just beginning to recover themselves.

Tom had sat with her that morning, after he’d arrived with his people, and shared food and stories of his end of the battle. Apparently he’d cut a great slice through the dragon’s belly. That made him one of the few to land a hit on the thing, with Mag and the Queen and the other dragon, the Wyrm of Ercch. On the hill, Alison flinched at the thought of Mag. Many of the battle’s wounds were still fresh.

Soft feathers brushed the back of her neck and she waved them away. “I’m fine.” She forced a grin and punched Tom hard in the shoulder. “I was stuck on courier duty the whole fight.” Not strictly true, but that wasn’t the point. “This idiot tried to fight the fuckin’ dragon.”

Tom leaned back on his hands and grinned lazily back at her. “Aye. Hurt the beast, too.” His grin grew. “Leapt straight off my horse at it, faeries under my arse lifting me all the way up.”

Alison snorted. “Yeah, sure. An’ Saint Katherine herself came down and guided you back to earth.”

“Nah. Fell flat on ma’ face,” Tom grinned. Alison snapped back, and the Captain smiled faintly at their antics. They traded a silent look of victory. It was one of the only smiles they’d seen out of him in days.

A mountain wind cooled them and Alison turned her face into the breeze. It hadn’t been this quiet in months. She’d barely seen either of them in months, and when she had they had been Ser Alison of the Red Banda and Ser Thomas Lachlan, Drover and _primus pilus_ of the Company and Ser Gabriel Muriens, the Red Knight, the Queen’s Champion, the Duke of Thrake, and probably another two or three titles he’d picked up when they weren’t looking. Alison felt her face sour and tried to shake it off. For tonight, they were Sauce and Bad Tom and the Captain, or maybe just Alison and Tom and Gabriel. They were three old friends and sometimes lovers and they had left all the trappings of war and camp and their knighthoods behind for a few hours. Soon enough they would have to return, and she would find Zac, and Tom would find Sukey, and the Captain- Gabriel, most people were calling him by name now- would find Blanche, or maybe Amicia. Or maybe both of them. He hadn’t told her much recently and she hadn’t had an opportunity to pry, mostly on account of her being on the other side of Alba for months.

For now, though, the three of them sat and let the wind carry them back to simpler times, when they weren’t- quite literally- fighting a god. Alison sighed. Fuck this. She looked over at the Captain- she just couldn’t make herself call him Gabriel, not after she’d spent so long avoiding his name at his own request- and rolled her eyes at his face. She elbowed Tom and nodded at the Captain. He rolled his eyes too and stood. He dropped down on Gabriel’s other side and shoved him towards Alison.

“Quit it. No thinking, no planning, no _scheming_ tonight, ya loon.” Tom could have moved the Captain even if the other man had resisted, but he went willingly enough. “Tar’s tits, don’t you get eno’ of that during the day?”

Gabriel settled and stared out across the battlefield. “It’s the end of the world, Tom. We don’t get to take breaks.” His wings stretched out behind him, iron grey nearly black in the night. “If I make one mistake at the wrong time-” Tom cuffed him.

“I thought ye said you were done with being the center of it all,” Tom demanded. Gabriel tilted his head and let a small smile through.

“Maybe not quite,” he allowed.

Sauce snorted a laugh. “We’d be packing you off to your nun if you ever actually thought something wasn’t about you.” Gabriel’s mouth twitched and she thought that maybe she’d crossed a line. She reached out to take his hand- only to be reminded that it wasn’t there anymore. A casualty of his battle with Thorn. She settled for letting her hand rest on his leg and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Even you need breaks sometimes, end of the world or no.” She felt him sigh and rest his head against hers. There was rustling on his other side and Tom passed over a half-full wineskin. They drank, and Sauce felt warm feathers curl around her protectively, blocking the wind and the stars.

She’d known about the wings for longer than she’d known his full name. They’d founded the Company together, with Jehan and Wilful Murder and two dozen others, half of whom were dead after two years of bloody campaigns. There was some sort of magic terminology she didn’t understand that described them. All she knew was that they were usually hidden, tucked away in the _aethereal_ until he brought them fully into the real, which he had been doing with greater frequency, to hell with the consequences. Usually to shield them. The Captain was a realist, and understood the losses that war demanded, but he was also a contrary bastard and hated to lose a friend. More than once, she’d caught a flash of grey and been spared a hard blow in battle. He was a stubborn ass, and always thought he was so damn clever, but all the Company knew what he’d do for those he loved. It was why they loved him.

Sauce was pretty sure Bad Tom had never cared about the wings one way or the other. They were just part of the Captain. He cared first about a good fight, his kinsmen in the Hills, and the Captain. And her.

A soft snore broke Alison from her thoughts. One of Gabriel’s wings rested against her back, and she could see the other draped over Tom. It only took a few minutes longer for the wings to vanish, banished back into the invisible realm of magic as he slept by long habit. Gently, Alison and Tom lowered Gabriel to the ground.

Alison sighed and met Tom’s eyes. “He’s going to kill himself if he tries to keep this up.” The last few weeks had been hell for everyone, and the Captain asked more of himself than any of his men. Or women, or anyone else in the Company. 

“No.” Tom’s voice brooked no argument, and no other possibilities. Alison shook her head.

“There’s only so much we can protect him from, Tom. You’re smarter than you pretend- you know that.” She grinned, lopsided. “If anything, I think he’s usually the one protecting us.”

“_No._” The intensity in Bad Tom’s voice, which had never once in his life managed a whisper, nearly woke the Captain. They both stopped and looked down, but he remained oblivious. Tom locked eyes with her again. “I don’t care. Anything that wants him comes through me first. Including him.”

Sauce almost drew back. Not for nothing had he earned the name Bad Tom. He rarely let anyone see this strength of fearful devotion, though he never held back with the rage. It could be honestly frightening at times, making him more a creature of the Wild than a man.

Still, it wasn’t like she didn’t feel the same. She’d thrown the Captain to the ground that night in Liviapolis, breaking the two great dancers’ circles, and she’d been certain for a brief, terrifying moment that the assassin’s bolt would find her instead. She hadn’t regretted it in the moment, and didn’t now, but God, she was glad to be out of the Empire.

She smiled at Tom. It wasn’t a pretty smile, even by her standards. “You and me both, brother.” She stood. “Get some sleep. I’ll watch for now.” She could feel Tom watching her as she paced the edge of their hilltop. When she finally turned back to him, he was dead asleep at Gabriel’s side. She turned again and watched the stars.


End file.
